New Message
by voila23xx
Summary: Texting plays a major role in the developing relationship between the world only consulting detective and his doctor. rating has changed to M
1. All in a Day's Work

Hey, so this would be my first Sherlock fic, and I'm having a lot of fun writing it! I really hope you guys like it; the rating might go up later for language, and some smut…maybe. I'd love if you would review and let me know if you liked it! Thanks!

(Sherlock belongs to it's respective creators and owners, I'm earning nothing off this.)

Chapter1: All in a Day's work

New Message: 5:30 AM

_Can you please move your bowl of fingers from the microwave?_

_-JW_

New Message: 5:32 AM

_I'm trying to sleep, don't you always tell me I need sleep?_

_-SH_

New Message: 5:33 AM

_Get in the kitchen now. I'm not touching these._

_-JW_

Sherlock grunts angrily as he gets out of bed and makes his way into the kitchen. He briefly looks at John and wonders why he's up so early.

"Why are you up so early?" He asks as he opens the microwave.

"Because I've got the first shift at the surgery." John says shaking his head in disbelief at Sherlock as he places the bowl of severed fingers in the freezer. "I'll be back by noon. Try and get out of the house today."

"Lestrade will text me before nine, there's been a triple murder that he'll need my help on."

"Good." John sighs, thinking about how Sherlock hasn't left the flat for three days. "Text me if you want me to meet you somewhere when I get off work?"

"Yeah." Sherlock mumbles taking the cup of tea out of John's hands and draining it.

"That was mine." John protests as Sherlock puts the cup back into his hands and turns around.

"Have a good time at work John." He says leaving the kitchen and picking up his violin from the floor.

As john leaves the flat he looks back briefly at the lanky detective. His body is silhouetted against the hazy morning light streaming through the front window and an eerie melody pours from the room.

New Message: 11:46:

_Just leaving work, where are you?_

_-JW_

New Message: 11:50:

_The Swiss Embassy, Bryanston Square. _

_-SH_

New Message: 11:53:

_I know where it is Sherlock. It's like right down the road from the flat._

_-JW_

New Message: 11:56:

_Well, are you coming? _

_-SH_

New Message: 12:00:

_Yes._

_-JW_

As John rounds the corner and the Swiss Embassy comes into view, he sees three police cruisers, an ambulance and lots of yellow crime scene tape. The doctor makes his way past the officers guarding the premises, and finds Sherlock hunched over in the bushes.

"Hey John." Lestrade says as he approaches.

"Hey. What's going on?"

The older man motions to where Sherlock is examining something out of John's view. "Triple murder last night, the bodies were found behind the bushes around two AM. Three young women, all around twenty five." From the bushes comes Sherlock's correcting call,

"Twenty-three, twenty-four, and twenty-six, actually" The detective doesn't stand, or look up when he corrects Lestrade.

John goes to take a look at the bodies, and stands beside the crouching man, his left leg brushing Sherlock's side.

"Cause of death?" Sherlock asks, testing the doctor.

John kneels down, and looks at the women's faces. He supposes that they would be considered beautiful, heavy makeup, long hair, and posh clothing, but behind the make up, he can see bruises across their faces, and beneath one of their very low cut tops, can see deeper bruises across her chest.

"Since there's no blood, and bruising across the chest and face, I'd say that they were held down and suffocated."

"Good John." Sherlock supplies, "Anything else?"

John starts to shake his head, then sees something interesting, "the were at Club 333, shortly before their deaths."

"What?" Sherlock looks baffled for a moment as he gazes up at John.

John kneels down beside his friend and points to the dead girls' hands. On each of them is a blue stamped 333. "It's a nightclub in Hakney."

"Oh, that's quite far from here. They must have taken a cab, then been killed or, been killed there and dumped here, or…" Sherlock's monologue continues until he comes to the conclusion that their killer had to have killed them at the club or near to it due to the bits of gravel in their hair, that wasn't present at the crime scene. Then taken them to the dumping location in his own car, due to the way each of them had distinct fractures that implied they had been put in a cramped space, after their deaths. There is more to Sherlock's deductions that John doesn't quite understand, and eventually Lestrade is sent to the club to find out the possible suspects.

"Brilliant as usual." John sighs as Sherlock climbs into the taxi behind him.

"Your observation was obviously the most important though John." Sherlock states, smiling at the doctor.

"Well," John starts, but is cut off.

"I would have never known that those stamps meant they were at a club."

"Don't go clubbing much then?" John asks sarcastically, the idea of Sherlock in a club utterly hysterical.

"No, do you?" the fact that Sherlock thinks John is being serious forces a laugh out of the shorter man. "What?" Sherlock asks, looking confused.

"Nothing," John says still smiling, "No I don't go clubbing Sherlock, I know about 333 from my university days though, it was quite popular amongst the first year girls."

"A good place to pick up potential mates, I assume."

John just shakes his head and laughs again. "Why are we taking a cab? Baker Street is a fifteen minute walk from the crime scene."

"We're not going home." Sherlock says noncommittally.

"Where then?"

"Lunch."

"Where?"

"Mycroft's"

John balked. "What? You and me are going to Mycroft's place for lunch?"

"Yes, problem?"


	2. Being Late

Chapter 2: Being Late

As John sits quietly in the cab watching London fly by, Sherlock taps away at his phone. His own phone buzzes.

New Message: 1:33:

_Want to meet for drinks tonight?_

_-Sarah_

New Message: 1:34:

_I'm visiting Sherlock's brother, not sure what time we'll be home. _

_-JW_

New Message: 1:34:

_Is that Sarah who's texting you? Tell her we wont be home until at least five. _

_-SH_

John looks up at his flatmate, and quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Mycroft's get-togethers are a big deal." Sherlock offers, glancing up at John.

"Why'd you text that to me?"

"Because I prefer to text."

John rolls his eyes and turns back to his phone to reply to Sarah.

New Message: 1:35:

_We wont be home until five apparently. I'll text you._

_-JW_

The cab rolls slowly through the London traffic, and occasionally John sees Sherlock looking at him from the corner of his eye.

"What?" He asks.

"What?" Sherlock responds.

"You're staring at me."

Sherlock shrugs and looks at John again, "Are you going to go out with Sarah tonight?"

"Yeah, probably." John's not sure what Sherlock's motives are in asking, but it feels awkward. Sherlock takes on a hurt look, and John suddenly feels like he is abandoning his friend.

"Okay."

"Well, maybe not if we're stuck at Mycroft's for too long."

Sherlock smiles a little. "We'll see."

New Message: 1:41:

_Tell my brother to stop ignoring my texts. You're both late._

_-MH_

"Your brother just texted me Sherlock. Stop ignoring him, oh and he says we're late."

"He's insufferable. We're not that late." Sherlock says letting his head fall on the cold glass of the window.

"What time were we supposed to be there?" John asks, genuinely curious.

"Noon."

"It's almost two." Sherlock just shrugs, and looks back at John. "What? You're staring again."

"Just observing."

John tries to ignore Sherlock's eyes boring into him as the cab stops in front of an extremely posh house in Queen's Park. The house is a tall four-story home, with white walls and ornate crown molding and a large wooden front door.

"Here we are." Sherlock says getting out of the cab, and leaving John behind to pay.

As he approaches the door and Sherlock, Mycroft appears in the entrance way, and gives them a look that clearly says, _I'm disappointed. _

John immediately thinks, _this should be interesting, _and glances at Sherlock as they are ushered into the lavish foyer. On Sherlock's face is a stony look of blatant disinterest as he shrugs out of his coat and scarf, John finds his eyes drawn to the exposed skin of Sherlock's neck momentarily.

"Lunch will be in served in the dining room." Mycroft says, leading Sherlock and john through the house.

The trio enters a room off the main hall that is lined with windows, and John wonders for the hundredth time, exactly what Mycroft does for a living. Anthea (if that really is her name) is sitting one end of the table, looking accusingly at Sherlock and John. John follows Sherlock's lead and sits across from the detective, while Mycroft takes the other head of the table.

"So are you two working on any interesting cases right now?" Mycroft asks as the help serves ice water, and fancy looking crustless sandwiches.

"Yes." Sherlock says bluntly, John knows that Sherlock does not find their current case to be particularly interesting. The consulting detective continues to explain the case in such detail, that John fins himself bored.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. John ignores it to be polite. A foot finds it's place roughly against John's shin and he looks at Sherlock indignantly.

"And so the stamp as john pointed out indicated that the girls had been at a specific nightclub before their deaths." Sherlock continues as though he had not just dented John's leg with such a rough kick, john noticed that he had at least avoided his bad leg.

Apparently, Sherlock wanted john to check his phone, and so he did.

New Message: 2:15:

_You are being quite a bore._

_-SH_

New Message: 2:15:

_You are hogging the spotlight._

_-JW_

John watches as Sherlock slyly glances at his phone, while continuing to explain how he had known where the victims had been killed. Only John notices the small smile that crosses Sherlock's lips as he takes a sip of water.

"So, Anthea," John begins as Sherlock converses with his brother, the woman looks up from her plate where she has been pushing crumbs around.


	3. Dont Bring it Up

wwHey guys, thanks for all the positive feedback. I'm going to keep writing, but I would really appreciate it if you let me know what you think.

(I don't own Sherlock, yada yada.)

Chapter 3: Don't Bring it Up.

Conversation with Anthea is hard work, John thinks, as he again tries to find a common discussion topic. He finds nothing to talk about and so turns his attention to Sherlock and Mycroft who are speaking about their mother.

The group has been seated at the table for over an hour, and their plates have been cleared away. John feels his phone buzz again, and trying to avoid another kick to the shins, slips it out of his pocket nonchalantly.

New Message: 3:32:

_Mycroft think's we're sleeping together. _

_-SH_

John has a hard time containing a snort as he reads the text, and Mycroft looks at him with his eyebrows knitted.

"Alright John?" He asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Um where is the restroom?" John sputters looking everywhere but at Sherlock.

"First door on the left." Mycroft supplies, smiling as though amused.

"Thanks."

As John hurries out of the room his mind whirls. Had he done anything to suggest to Mycroft that he was romantically involved with Sherlock? Most definitely not, well maybe, no, no way, John hadn't done anything of the kind. John finds the toilet and quickly closes the door behind him and leans against the sink stand. As he wonders what had given Mycroft that ludicrous idea John feels his phone vibrate against his thigh once more.

New Message: 3:39

_Do you want me to tell him that we're not?"_

_-SH_

That was very caring of Sherlock, John thinks as he reads the text, but he thinks that bringing up what Sherlock had deduced might make the situation more awkward than necessary.

New Message: 3:39:

_No, just don't bring it up._

_-JW_

New Message: 3:40:

_We're moving into the sitting room for tea._

_-SH_

New Message: 3:41:

_Wait; did you say anything about it?_

_-JW_

New Message: 3:41:

_About what?_

_-SH_

New Message: 3:42:

_About us shagging. Which we're not, and not going to. _

_-JW_

New Message: 3:43:

_Can you stop sulking in the toilet and come join us in the sitting room?_

_-SH_

New Message: 3:44:

_Oh god, you did bring it up, didn't you?_

_-JW_

John lets his forehead slide harshly against the mirror, and groans internally. What ever Sherlock has said to Mycroft has most definitely gone awry, judging on Sherlock's answers, or lack of, to his questions. Sighing heavily john turns back to the door, and bravely pulls it open.

As Sherlock had said the group has moved from the dining room, and it takes John a little while to find them in the sitting room. It is a huge, high ceilinged room, with light yellow walls and dark wooden ornate furniture.

"Ah John." Mycroft says, quirking an eyebrow at him as he takes the seat beside Sherlock. Anthea and Mycroft sit on the low plush chairs across from them, and after a brief awkward silence a young woman in uniform laid a tea tray down between them.

"Tea John?" Mycroft asks, filling the four cups on the tray.

"Milk and sugar." He replies, as Mycroft hands Anthea her cup.

"John takes a lot of sugar, at lease three" pipes up Sherlock, John throw his an angry glare.

The res of the visit consist of Mycroft talking about politics, Sherlock making a few blunt remarks about Mycroft's diet and lifestyle, Anthea looking bored, and John desperately hoping that Sherlock doesn't say anything else that might be incriminating.

"Well, it's half past five Mycroft, we best be off soon." Sherlock says after a nudge and an impatient look from John.

"Ah, somewhere to be John?" the elder Holmes brother asks. John almosts inquires to how he knows that, but thinks better of it.

"Not really Mycroft, but thank you for the lovely meal." John says extending a hand that Mycroft takes and shakes firmly.

"No problem John. Perhaps we'll be seeing more of you around the Holmes houses soon?" the older man asks arching an eyebrow that seemed full of implications.

"Um, yes. Sure." John says stepping back and following Sherlock to the hall. Once both men are suited up in their coats and gloves, Sherlock glances over his shoulder at his brother and the young woman beside him.

"Mycroft, Anthea." The detective inclines his head, and briskly exits the home, John follows.

As soon as the door is shut behind them John catches up to Sherlock and grabs hold of his coat sleeve, the tall man turns abruptly to face him. "Problem?"

"Yes! Why did you not persuade your brother that we are not in fact sleeping together?"

"I told he we weren't and he laughed and shook his head and continued on with the conversation." Sherlock says tersely.

"You just brought it up out of the blue?"

"Yes."

John shakes his head disbelievingly and snorts, "You are impossible Sherlock."


	4. Truth Hurts

Chapter 4:

As Sherlock sits on his haunches in his armchair as John bustles about the flat looking desperately for his phone.

"Sherlock are you sure you haven't seen my phone?"

"Yes John. You had it while we were in the cab, you were texting Sarah."

John spins around to glare at Sherlock. "Yes I know that, thank you… couldn't you do some deducing, and find it?

"You know it doesn't work that way."

John sighs angrily, and continues looking for his phone. "Well I'm supposed to be half way across London by now to meet Sarah and I'm not leaving with out my phone."

Sherlock glances up "Why? So you can text me while you're on a date? Seems rather rude to me."

"You are one to talk, you're the rudest person I know." John says, coming round to the chair where Sherlock is sitting. Urgently looking beneath it and finding nothing, John leans in towards Sherlock.

"There is a difference between being rude and being honest."

John just shakes his head, and plunges his hands beneath the cushion Sherlock is seated on. "Could you move please?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I'm rather enjoying watching you be so ridiculous."

"Sherlock, I am not being ridiculous, I just really want to get on my way to meet Sarah."

"I'll help you find your phone if you stay home." Sherlock offers, tilting his head slightly.

"Um. No thank you." John says moving to the sofa to rummage through the pillows.

"Then you wont find it." Sherlock says smugly. Too smugly John realizes.

"You know where it is."

"No."

John puts his hands on his hips. "Yes you do. Give it to me."

"_I don't know where it is!"_ Sherlock squeaks when John lunges towards him in the armchair.

"Yes, you do!" John says wriggling his fingers into Sherlock's coat pockets. Finaly Sherlock stops resisting John's seach, and sits perfectly still, watching the doctor explore the exterior and interior pockets of his dark blue blazer.

"If I did know where it was, and I'm not saying I do, I wouldn't have hidden it somewhere so simple as my jacket pockets." Says the detective. John grumbles in acknowledgment and slides his hands down Sherlock's hard flat stomach to the front pockets of his dark jeans. Immediately it's obvious that there is nothing in the pockets there, the material tis pressed tight against his hips, and it would be visable if his phone were there.

Stand up." John orders, sounding very militaristic.

"No."

"I know you have it Sherlock."

"Then get it for yourself." The taller man says folding his arms across his chest and leaning back into the chair. If John didn't know better he would have thought that was an seductive smirk on Sherlock's face, but he shakes his head and dives down onto Sherlock. Practically sitting on the other man's lap, John's hands fumble around beneath Sherlock. Coming first to his left back pocket, which is regrettable empty.

As John's hands slide between Sherlock's ass and the leather of the sofa towards the right pocket Sherlock Jumps up, and over the back of the chair.

"Well at least I know where it is now." John says, smirking. "Give it to me."

"No."

"Give it to me." John says with a low growl.

"No." Sherlock starts to say before John is bounding across the room, and leaping onto Sherlock, pinning him to the floor.

For a moment Sherlock is silent, except for his heavy breath and the pair of them stay completely still, taking each other in. John knows how this looks, himself spread over Sherlock, hands pinning wrists to the floor, in the middle of the sitting room.

"Just call and cancel you're already a half hour late."

"No. Sarah will understand." John says, but he feels his resolve slipping. Maybe it would be for the best. Just to stay home and watch telly with Sherlock. John watches Sherlock's face fall, as he rolls a bit and pulls John's phone out of his pocket.

"Sorry." Sherlock whispers gently, then pushes the doctor off him and walks into the kitchen. John thinks about following him, but instead goes to the door and grabs his coat. He hadn't seen Sherlock react like that before to anything and he was more than a little stunned.

Taking the door handle in his hand he calls over his shoulder, "Goodbye Sherlock."

There's no answer as John closes the door and hurries out into the street.

John and Sarah are sitting in a dimly lit pub at the bar and speaking lowly over a couple of drinks. John looks at his girlfriend and supposes that he is lucky. She's stuck with him even after he got her kidnapped, she's kind and beautiful, but something has always seemed a little wrong.

Sarah reaches over to him, and takes his hand. "Are you alright?" she asks as though she can read his thoughts, almost like Sherlock.

"I don't know Sarah." He says as he shakes his head, the beer and heavy food is making him tired and emotional.

"do you want to get out of here?"

John quickly agrees and pulls his wallet out to pay for their meals Sarah takes his hand again when he joins her and they head for the street. There are no cabs so Sarah suggests that they take a walk. John thinks briefly about how he would just like to go home to check on Sherlock and see if he is still angry with him.

"So what's going on?" the woman asks cheerily. John thinks about how to answer, should he tell her that Sherlock is angry with him, or upset, and John is worried about the tall detective?

"Nothing really. We've had some interesting cases."

"How's Sherlock?"

"Mad." John huffs, and the couple is quiet for a bit.

"Want to get a cab?" Sarah asks.

"Yes." John answers almost too quickly, but he doesn't think that Sarah has noticed. soon enough a cab rolls up, and being gentlemanly John steps forward and opens the door for Sarah. "Goodnight then Sarah." he says as she slides in and looks up at him expectantly.

"Aren't you coming with me?" she asks sounding affronted.

"Oh. I thought, I thought you wanted to go home."

"Yeah with you." she says smiling oddly. John mentally kicks himself. Of course she had meant to go home together, they had been sleeping together for over a month now.

"Ah, Sarah I'm so sorry." he begins.

"It's alright John, I can tell you're not really on form tonight. Go get some rest, and I'll see you at the surgery tomorrow." She leans up expectantly from inside the cab, her hands coming up around John's neck. for a moment he lets himself relax and thinks about how nice it would be to go home with her. Then the dark haired sociopath pops into his head. and As he is kissing Sarah he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

"Good bye Sarah."

"Bye." John stands back and lets the door to the cab close.

Once John is snugly seated in seated in his own cab he pulls out his phone.

New Message: 10:13:

__

_ -SH_

New Message: 10:14:

_What the hell? How much have you had to drink?_

_ -JW_

There is no answer, _God I hope he hasn't blacked out,_ John thinks as the cab makes a sharp turn.

New Message: 10:16:

_Sherlock are you alright?_

_-JW_

As The cab pulls onto Baker Street John realizes that Sherlock still hasn't texted him back, and panic sets in. John quickly jumps out and pays the cabbie. Looking up from the street John sees that all the lights in 221b are off, and dropping his cane by the door bounds up the stair case.

"Sherlock?" he calls as he enters the dark flat. There is no answer and he very quickly flicks the light on and calls out again.

"What?" Shouts the detective's low voice as Sherlock sits up from the couch looking disgruntled and angry.

"I thought you had been attacked or something."

"I was sleeping. Obviously." Sherlock says folding his arms across his chest and scowling at John. John edges his way towards him after shrugging out of his coat and realizes that Sherlock's eyes are red and raw.

"Are you high?" John asks realizing the symptoms.

"What?" Sherlock responds, affronted. "No of course not, why?"

"Your eyes. They're all red and puffy."

Sherlock shrugs, and turns away. "You know I'm clean." he says over his shoulder. Then realization hits John like a ton of bricks and he feels terrible.

Sherlock has been crying.


	5. Are You Cold?

Chapter 5: Are you Cold?

"So that text you sent me?" John says as he approaches the sofa and sits on the arm rest. Sherlock is still facing away from him but sitting close enough for John to hear his deep breath.

"What text?" Sherlock asks monotonously. John pulls out his phone from his pocket, in an attempt to get his flatmate to look at him John doesn't pass the phone to Sherlock.

"This one."

Sherlock shifts so that he can see the phone in John's hand. "I must have fallen asleep on my phone, and done it by accident." he says raising a hand to push some of his unruly curls out of his face. At that moment John can see the dark circles under Sherlock's eyes and guilt coils in his stomach, heavy as an anchor and hot like burning coals.

John brings his hand up quickly towards Sherlock's face, when his fingers brush the skin of Sherlock's jaw, the tall man jumps back a bit and turns away from John.

"Sherlock?"

"I'm going to bed." he says, standing up without looking at John.

"Goodnight Sherlock."

Other than a disgruntled sigh, Sherlock didn't acknowledge John as he stalked off into his bedroom.

New Message: 6:12 AM:

_Get up._

_ -SH_

New Message: 6:14 AM:

_I'm really bored._

_ -SH_

New Message: 6:20 AM:

_I'm contemplating the effects of smoke on a decomposing body._

_ -SH_

New Message: 6:22 AM:

_Which means I'll be lighting something on fire._

_ -SH_

New Message: 6:22 AM:

_Please do not light anything on fire. I'm up. _

"Sherlock?" John asks cautiously as he enters the kitchen, he is thankful that he cant smell smoke yet.

"I'm here." Sherlock calls from behind a particularly high stack of newspapers and case files.

"Nothing on fire then?"

"Oh no. I conducted that experiment weeks ago, I just wanted you to wake up." The detective says, standing and stretching gracefully. John is sure that he should look away when Sherlock's shirt rises over his stomach as he lifts his arms up over his head and leans to each side, but instead his eyes seem glued to the taller man's exposed skin.

"Tea?" Sherlock asks, mid stretch, thankfully pulling John's attention from the smooth, pale expanse of Sherlock's abdomen.

"Mhm" John nods, spinning quickly to face the kettle. As he maneuvers around the kitchen fixing breakfast and tea for himself and Sherlock, he wonders about Sherlock's change in mood. When he had gone to sleep the previous night, Sherlock had seemed practically distraught, now he was almost chipper, and it was confusing John greatly.

"Have you got to the surgery today?" Sherlock asks, non looking up from his petry dish on the table.

"No, it's Sunday Sherlock."

"Oh, right." Sherlock looks up for a moment just as John brings his tea across the room. "The police are being imbeciles again, and I'm fairly sure that we can find the killer of those girls before them."

"Whey don't you just tell the police what you know and let them deal with it?" John asks, the perpetual voice of reason.

"Well, that's no fun is it?"

"Actually it seems for fun that getting shot and my body being dumped in front of an international embassy."

Sherlock smiles a little and sips gingerly at his tea.

"Well? are you going to help?"

John hardly thinks about it, "Of course."

New Message: 12:33PM

_I forgot to put nicotine patches on the list._

_ -SH_

New Message: 12:35 PM:

_I already got them. I'm on my way home._

_ -JW_

Moments later John enters the flat, and sees Sherlock already in his coat and scarf, standing by the door.

"Going somewhere?" He asks.

"We both are going to the main suspects flat. Put the groceries away and hurry up."

John shakes his head but doesn't argue, not wanting to upset Sherlock again.

After being dragged to a dingy flat above a hair salon, talking to several aquantences of the victims and grabbing a kebab on the go, John and Sherlock are crouching behind a low concrete wall by the river at an old dusty warehouse.

"Why would he come here?"

"Because I noticed in his flat that he had a pair of work boots, that were extremely well worn, why would a man who works at a night club have work boots?" Sherlock doest wait for John to answer. "Well, I was curious so when I excused myself, I looked through his bag by the door and found a paycheque from the company that owns this warehouse. Since he didn't return to his job at the club, or the flat, we can assume that he might show up hear. And since the police are incompetent, we are here."

"Oh." John says, slightly annoyed, and cold.

"Are you cold?" Sherlock asks, sounding surprisingly concerned.

"Yes Sherlock, it's getting dark out, and we're twenty feet from the river." John snaps, his knuckles whiting against the wall. John is surprised when Sherlock reaches up and pulls his scarf off.

"What are you doing? put that back on, I'm not taking care of you If you get a cold Sherlock." John scolds glaring at the detective.

"Shut up." Sherlock says, pulling the scarf around John's neck quickly and looking back towards the exit of the building.

"No, take this back," John protests, thinking wildly, about how out of character Sherlock is acting.

"John, _shut up._"

John just stops talking and looks at the tall man before him, Sherlock is watching the door intently and against the harsh fluorescent light his eyes glow strangely, like water through a pool. The pool, john remembers. The bloody maniac had actually shot the pack of semtex lying on the concrete, thinking quickly John had pushed the other man into the pool, just as the world above the water had erupted into flames and debris.

John remembers again the feeling of absolute terror, so similar to his days in Afghanistan, that had over whelmed him in that moment of uncertainty as he pulled Sherlock from the pool, his body heavy and sopping wet. It was obvious that Sherlock had breathed in too

much of the harsh chlorine filled watter almost immediately, with the building still smouldering around them he had preformed CPR.

"John, there he is." Sherlock says quietly. John looks around again and shakes his head. "Are you going to approach him?"

"Not yet." He says as he straightens up and looks down at John still on the ground. "Come on, we're going to see where he goes." And with that Sherlock strides away towards the road where the suspect has disappeared. "John?" he calls back briefly.

"Yeah, I'm right behind you." John says, getting to his feet and jogging up to his friend.

The pair are silent as they follow the suspect farther into the depths of London, only about a ten feet behind him. The man's path does not seem to lead towards his flat, or towards a tube station or bus stop, but keeps winding through the busiest sidewalks filled with London's night crowd, and tourists. Finally he turns behind a restaurant into an ally way.

John looks to Sherlock for reassurance, and the detective nods and swiftly follows him into the darkened side street.

"We've called the police, and they'll be here momentarily, so, just relax, and we'll be getting along fine."

"Not bloody likely mate." the man says stepping out of the shadows, he is huge and muscled, and his face is grimy from working in the warehouse. Then there is barely a heartbeat in which the man lunges at Sherlock; who sidesteps him, and the man goes sprawling side of the dumpster with a resounding crash.

"John check if he's conscious." Sherlock says pulling out his phone.

John just shakes his head and wonders over to the man, thinking about how rediculous Sherlock is.

"He'll be out for a while, Are the police really on their way?"

"Yes, I texted them as we were walking."

It takes Lestrade ten minutes to show up with five other policemen and he quickly dismisses John and Sherlock, thanking them briefly for their help.

"Hey, do you want this back?" John asks once they are situated in the warm cab. He holds out the blue scarf to Sherlock tentatively.

"Thank you." Sherlock says taking it from Johns hand. Their lock eyes briefly, and John blushes as Sherlock's fingers come into contact with his own.

"No, thank you." he says and looks away out the window. Silence follows for a while, but it's a long ride back to 221B and eventually John looks over towards Sherlock again.

His scarf is placed back on his neck, and he is also looking out the window at the nightlife passing by. John hardly thinks as he reaches out and places his small hand over Sherlock's larger one. Sherlock simply looks towards at him, smiles warmly and looks back out the window. the rest of the car ride is passed in comfortable silence, with the warm pressure of Sherlock's hand curled in John's.

*** I made some edits. Sorry i had so many mistakes in the first copy... I'll update soon!


	6. Doctor John H Watson

Chapter 6: Doctor John H. Watson

As soon as the cab had reached 221b John had pulled his hand away from Sherlock's and payed the cabbie. By the time he had reached the flat, Sherlock was already coat and scarfless, seated at the kitchen table over some type of experiment.

"Sherlock?" John asks from the doorway of the kitchen.

"Yes?" Sherlock says without looking up from his test tubes. John thinks for a moment before answering, looking at Sherlock's hands on the beakers and remembering the warmth they had provided in the taxi only moments ago.

"I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight then." Sherlock says again with out glancing up. John stays for a moment and observes his flatmate, his hands flying over the different chemicals and papers, he seems entirely involved in his work, oblivious to John standing only a few feet away. John feels a tiny flicker of annoyance at the fact that Sherlock is so indifferent, and a larger burst of annoyance at himself for feeling rejected by Sherlock.

As John turns away mentally kicking himself, Sherlock clears his throat. "John?"

"Yeah?" he says quickly looking over his shoulder.

Sherlock is looking at John now, his eyes bright in the semi-dark room and John is positive that Sherlock is about to tell him off for holding his hand, and bring up the fact that he is married to his work. "goodnight." he says again, with a little smile.

"'night Sherlock."

New Message: 3:23AM:

I may be in need of some assistance.

SH

John grimaces as he looks at the time stamp on the text message, 3:23AM. What could Sherlock possibly need at this hour of the morning? John is fairly sure that Sherlock's definition of assistance covers, fetching his slippers, or getting him some biscuits at this ungodly hour. John tucks his phone beneath his pillow and lays back down. Only seconds later it buzzes again.

New Message: 3:24AM:

It's quite urgent.

SH

John sighs, rolls over to the side of the bed, and begrudgingly pulls on a jumper off the floor. Without bothering to put pajamas on over his shorts the doctor quickly makes his way down the stairs cursing his flatmate.

"John," Sherlock sighs in relief as he enters the kitchen. From what John can immediately see, there is nothing wrong; Sherlock is standing over the counter by the sink, his back towards John but his head turned over his shoulder.

"What is it Sher? It's three in the morning."

"John, I need help." As he says it, John detects the note of panic in his voice, then sees that the tiny bit of color normally in Sherlock's face has gone. John steps closer and sees that Sherlock is holding his hand over the sink wrapped in what looks like one of their nice dish towels.

"Oh, Christ Sherlock what did you do?" He says reaching out for the detective's hand. "let me have a look."

Slowly and carefully John peels back the layers of towel, each time the cloth beneath becomes redder and darker with blood. The cut beneath is something quite alarming, and leaves John wondering just how Sherlock had achieved it.

"It looks like you've cut through some muscle but luckily the human palm is a well padded area." John says in his doctor voice as though addressing a young child. The gash in his friend's left hand reaches from the base of his thumb to bottom of his ring finger. "it looks like you'll need stitches." John says as he notices that Sherlock is still bleeding quite a bit. "sit down at the table, I'll be right back, try to keep your hand above your head."

Moments later John returns with his med kit to find Sherlock with both hands up in the air, one holding the other and his feet up on the kitchen table.

"John. are you going to do the stitches?" He asks sounding very childlike.

"Yes, I know how you feel about hospitals. Now give me your hand and sit properly" John sits down in the chair next to Sherlock and turns to face him, their knees only brushing. "This may hurt a bit."

As John finishes the stitches, cleans the wound again and binds Sherlock's hand in gauze he feels Sherlock's uninjured hand slide onto his bare knee.

"How does it feel?" John asks dropping the bound hand lightly.

Sherlock looks at it and raises an eyebrow. "I can hardly feel it."

John looks down at the uninjured hand on his knee as Sherlock examines John's handy work. Sherlock's long fingers are cold on his pale leg, but it's such an endearing and nonthreatening gesture that John doesn't mind the cold.

"John?"

"mhm?" sighs John.

"I, um, sorry." he says uncertainly, and digs his fingers slightly into John's leg.

"for what?"

"Waking you up I guess." Sherlock says, standing abruptly. John quirks an eyebrow at this sudden movement, then follows suit standing as well.

"It's no problem. just next time your decide to slice your hand open, or God forbid, chop a finger off, don't use the nice dish towels alright?"

A little smile cracks on Sherlock's face. "alright."

The pair stands in comfortable silence, both smiling at each other and John wonders what Sherlock is thinking. What could possibly be making this brilliant man smile so beautifully? John chides himself for thinking that Sherlock is beautiful, but deep down he knows it's the truth, and there is hardly any other way to describe him."You should go to bed, I can't believe you're still up."

Sherlock chuckles. "I told you I don't sleep that much."

"I know, but you're not on a case right now, so go get some rest." Captain John says with as much authority as he can.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns toward the door. "You should come to bed too, I mean, go to bed, you should go to your bed."

John smiles. "Yeah, I know."

I'm so sorry that this too so ling to update, but I've been on holiday. anyways, this chapter is basically just fluff! hope you like it, let me know what you think!


	7. The Swans?

Sorry this took so long again... I've just started at uni, so the updates might be less frequent, but I hope you all still enjoy the story!

Chapter 7: The Swans?

The morning after Sherlock injured himself is a very typical morning for the boys of 221B. John sits in his jeans and jumper reading the paper while drinking his second cup of tea, and Sherlock lounges across the sofa, silently examining his new stitches.

"How long before they come out?"

"Umm, come out of what Sherlock?" John answers not paying the slightest bit of attention.

"The stitches John."

"What?" He says finally looking up from the newspaper.

"Do pay attention Doctor... I was wondering when I can remove these stitches, they itch."

John lifts an inquisitive eyebrow. "You will not be removing those stitches, I will. and I'll do it when I think that you're hand is healed enough. Now stop playing with them."

Sherlock looks at John blankly, apparently surprised at his command. "Yes sir." he mutters as he swings to his feet and begins to pace about the room.

"What's wrong?"

"You." Sherlock says curtly. John thinks that is a bit harsh.

"I'm just trying to help Sherlock, now don't touch those stitches." John says rolling his

eyes at his friend. Sherlock could be such a child sometimes. Sherlock sighs and throws himself back onto the sofa.

"fine."

John watches Sherlock from over the top of his paper, his friends hands a clenched down at his sides, and his eyes are screwed shut awkwardly. "What's wrong Sherlock?" He asks, because Sherlock is obviously more upset than he is letting on.

"I'm having trouble understanding something."

"Another experiment?" John says standing up and moving towards the sofa. He sees Sherlock's eyes open and he knows that this is not a work related problem.

"In a manner of speaking." Sherlock sighs, his face is contorted to portray pain, and John immediately feels protective.

"Sherlock, please tell me what's going on, I only want to help." he says then chuckles a bit, "pretty much everything I do is to help you." he says as he realizes that it's true. John is standing behind the sofa now looking down at the detective.

"I know." When the taller man speaks his voice is almost a complaint, then softer "I just never..." His voice trails off, and John takes this opportunity to speak.

"I think you're just bored and over thinking things. why don't we just go for a walk."

"no."

"It will do us good, come on now Sherlock."

Sherlock huffs and moans but slowly pulls himself up from the cushions, "I'll go but not

because I want to." John smiles at the fact that Sherlock will do something for him, as he grabs both their coats from the pegs.

"What's the point?" Sherlock asks only twenty minutes later as the pair strolls past the large pond on their left.

"Of what? The swans?" John asks feeling legitimately confused.

"no of course not, what's the point of feeling romantically inclined to only one person?" Sherlock says looking out across the water. The day is cold and the air freezes in picturesque puffs of mist around the detective's face as he breaths.

John's brain shuts down as he processes what Sherlock has said and the doctor is momentarily mesmerized by the swirling air and blue haze of Sherlock's eyes. "I-is that what this is about?"

"You must have worked it out yourself, no?" Sherlock sighs as he takes another step towards John, immediately intruding upon his personal space.

"I think I have." the doctor answers leaning in closer to Sherlock. "but I want to hear you say it."

"John, I've never..." Sherlock sighs with frustration, "its so impractical." John chuckles at Sherlock's frustration and steps away from him again.

"Let's keep walking, you can try to explain as we go."

"John wait." Sherlock almost yells as he lunges forward to grasp the back of John's coat. Immediately John finds himself spun around and nose to nose with his flatmate. The feel of Sherlock's erratic, warm breath washes over him and the smell of tea makes him feel safe and comfortable. "Are you okay with this?" Sherlock asks, and John can tell that he's trying to find a way out the situation he had himself created.

The answer John provides is completely non verbal but entirely understandable, and practically screams "_Yes! Yes! Yes!" _as his lips brush teasingly across Sherlock's own. When Sherlock responds, the kiss is clumsy but endearing and John realizes what Sherlock had meant when he said _"I've never." _But the detective is a fast learner, and soon matches John's pace with seemingly rehearsed vigor.

Only when they break apart for air, does John let himself indulge in the thoughts he's been trying to keep locked away for so long. And as he looks into Sherlock's eyes he actually starts to laugh as he realizes how stupid he's been.

"What?" Sherlock asks, stepping away, but keeping his hand firmly on John's hip.

"Nothing really." He chuckles out, causing Sherlock to look inquisitively at him. "It's just that I've been fighting this," he motions to the space between himself and the detective vaguely "for so long and with such difficulty, I never stopped to consider you might want it" he motions again, "to happen as well... it's just sort of silly."

"I don't think it's silly. I think you we're just being cautious." Sherlock says as he steps back into John's embrace. John marvels at how lean Sherlock is beneath his heavy winter layers as his hands roam over his sides and back and then they are kissing again, and the winter day is gone.

Feeling warm, and surprisingly satisfied, John steps away first this time as he feels his phone in his pocket buzz.

"What?" Sherlock asks, looking marginally hurt.

"Phone." John says pulling it out, and flipping it open.

New Message: 11:33 AM

_I need Sherlock's help, but he's not answering his phone. I'm assuming he is with you._

_-Greg_

"Lestrade says you aren't answering your phone." John says returning his attention to the beautiful man before him.

"It's been buzzing in my pocket now for about twenty three minutes." Sherlock observes sliding his hand from John's hip to his neck.

"It sound's important."

"I am otherwise engaged in something much more important." The tall, dark haired man whispers as he moves in once more to capture John's lips with his own.

-oh goodness guys, this one was so difficult to write and I fear it may be a bit out of character. sorry! also. this too FOREVER to update, sorry again. anyways let me know what you thought. there should be at least three more chapters!


	8. Of Course

(warning: the rating in the chapter goes up to M, sorry if this deters you from reading)

Chapter 8: Of Course

John spends the rest of the day following Sherlock to and from the crime scene, only after the sun as fallen, does he get a moment to rest. Sherlock has ducked into the Chinese restaurant to pick up their order and John sits reclined on a bench just outside. It's the first time that John has had to really think about the kisses that he and Sherlock had shared that morning.

Just thinking about the moment makes his face warm against the winter air, and he seriously hopes that it was not a one time occurrence. John's own thoughts alarm him slightly, he's never felt this way about a man but for some reason Sherlock is different. He remembers Sherlock's uttered confession between kisses, _I've never, _but it's okay because John hasn't either, well never with a man, and for some reason it comforts him to be on the same page as Sherlock for once.

"Home then?" Sherlock asks quietly as he strides out of the red painted door.

"What?" John asks looking around, "oh, yeah."

As they walk John notices that Sherlock is still carrying the take away bag and hasn't shoved it into Johns arms for him to carry, but John remains silent about it. with a rustle of plastic Sherlock transfers the bag from his right to left, and with his now free hand, casually curls two long fingers around John's pinkie and ring finger.

"What?" he asks when John looks at him with a critical look on his face.

"Nothing, I just didn't expect you to be the hand holding type." The doctor jokes.

Sherlock smiles and playfully nudges John with his shoulder, "shut up."

The couple doesn't talk again until they are both seated on the floor of the sitting room with their food; in John's lap a container of mu shu pork, and in Sherlock's a carton of lemon chicken, between them a bottle of wine and two mugs to drink it out of.

"you really shouldn't serve wine in tea mugs John." Sherlock says as he watches the dark liquid swirl around.

"I put it in mugs, because you break all the nice glass wear and because we're eating Chinese on the floor, we're less likely to spill."

Sherlock looks at John wryly from over the rim of his mug as he gulps the wine down.

"And I thought you ordered lemon chicken, not _my _mu shu pork." John scolds as Sherlock finishes his wine and reaches for John's food with his own fork.

"I like yours better."

"Well order that next time." John says as he realizes how far Sherlock is leaning towards him.

"One more bite?" Sherlock asks like a child asking for extra dessert. John sighs, and holds out his food for Sherlock; who scoops up a large portion and eats it quickly.

"Do you want to watch telly?" Sherlock asks after a few moments of companionable silence as he reaches for the remote control on the sofa.

"I think I'd rather talk." John says, stopping Sherlock's groping hand with his own. Sherlock turns towards John and looks genuinely interested.

"Talk then." Sherlock says lowering his head towards John, he seems concerned.

"You kissed me this morning." he accuses, but it's not accusatory or critical. Sherlock's hand slips away from John's on the sofa, and comes to rest between the doctor's neck and shoulder.

"It's that okay? You seemed to enjo-" Sherlock's worried words are cut off mid sentence when John ploughs into his flatmate, just wrapping his arms around Sherlock's thin neck and burying his face into the soft fabric of his shirt. Sherlock continues talking as his hands nervously creep up the back of john's navy jumper. "you seemed to enjoy it, but don't do anything because you think I need it."

"Do you need it Sherlock?" John asks into Sherlock's ear.

"Yes." he says nonchalantly and continues, "but if you aren't okay with it..."

"Sherlock, have I done anything to give you the impression that I am not one hundred percent okay with kissing you?" John asks pulling away and laughing a little.

"Well no, not yet." Sherlock says and pulls completely away from John, taking another bite of Chinese he continues. "but you're straight, and this can't be satisfying for you."

"And you're asexual, but I don't see you objecting." John says, although he always doubted that Sherlock really was asexual, just like he doubts that Sherlock really is a sociopath. John waits for Sherlock to respond but he just looks down as the floor in thought, apparently. "Listen Sherlock, I've never been with a man, and I've never wanted to be. But it's different between you and me." John's hands come up to Sherlock's cheeks, and gently the doctor guided his face towards his. It's only seconds until their kissing again, and it's slow and peaceful and indulgent.

"I can't believe you want this." Sherlock whispers when they break away from each other. John chuckles heartily,

"Neither can I Sherlock, but I do," John kisses Sherlock once lightly, "desperately."

"John." Sherlock sighs into his friend's mouth when they make contact again. Only when John feels Sherlock's hands in his hair does he dare to slide his tongue forward, which elicits a surprised moan from the detective. John takes his time tasting Sherlock, the recognizable taste of soy sauce is almost masked by the sweet flavor or wine, but there is another flavor less familiar to him, but it tastes like Sherlock smells; and it excites John wildly.

"The sofa." John breaths and immediately finds himself hoisted into the sofa, himself looming over his flatmate. For a second he tries to comprehend what is happening but then they are kissing again and John cantonly think about getting closer to Sherlock. John lowers his body down to rest atop Sherlock, their hips meeting, and instantly grinding to a rhythm only the two of them can hear.

"Sherlock." John pants pulling back suddenly.

"What?" He says looking like the cat who ate the cream. "am I doing it wrong?" he asks, genuinely worried.

"No, no, oh God no." John says as he silently marvels at how lovely Sherlock looks, with his hair askew, clothing disheveled, eyes blown dark with desire and his lips swollen and red. "I just," John begins as he runs a finger down Sherlock's neck. "Should we slow down? I know you're new to this and-"

"Why? I think it's going pretty well." Sherlock says quietly, and maybe John imagines it or maybe not but he thinks he feels Sherlock push his growing erection up ever so slightly into John's hips.

John drops a kiss to Sherlock's neck, and another to the tip of his nose. "I have work tomorrow morning. If I could I'd stay up with you all night." John kisses Sherlock's left cheek than his right.

"So you want to stop?" Sherlock looks dejected, and John instantly feels like he has misspoken.

"I never want to stop Sherlock." John says grinding down onto Sherlock an imperceptible amount. "but I have work in the morning and it's already late."

"I know." Sherlock sighs dragging his hands through John's short crop of hair. "go to bed then." he whispers leaning in for another kiss.

John kisses him, a passionate but short kiss and begrudgingly gets up.

John's bedroom seems empty as he tries to sleep, although he knows nothing about the room has changed, it's himself who has changed, or maybe he hasn't changed at all. John can't think straight, every time his eyes close he is bombarded with images of his flatmate wearing a lovely navy coat, standing on a rooftop high above him, writhing in pleasure below him, wearing nothing but navy shorts, wearing nothing. _Oh god. _John thinks trying to find a comfortable position, but instead he finds that he has a fresh erection, and suddenly his hand is clenched in a tight fist around himself. And before he has time to think about what's happening John is moaning Sherlock's name and coming faster than he has since he was sixteen.

His phone buzzes. With come slick fingers he reads the text.

New message: 1:22 AM

It would have been easier to let me do it.

-SH

His phone buzzes again before he answers the first message.

New message: 1:23 AM

I said your name, I hope you said mine.

-SH

The thought of Sherlock moaning John's name as he came only a floor below him almost gives John another hard on, but fatigue overcomes him, and he realizes that it's been a ridiculously long day.

New Message: 1:28 AM

Of course I said your name.

-John

holy shit. this was difficult to write. please let me know what you think!


	9. Stay

Chapter 9: Stay

It's been days, five days exactly, since John kissed Sherlock on the sitting room floor. Four days since Lestrade called and gave Sherlock a new case, three days since John touched Sherlock at all, two days since Sherlock has spoken of anything other than the case, and one day since John has last slept.

"Sherlock, slow down!" John calls from behind the speeding detective. They are running down a back alley in Holborn and John is failing to keep up with Sherlock.

Rounding the corner Sherlock comes back into view along with the woman they are chasing. She is fast and small, and wanted for murdering her boyfriend and his lover, "Sherlock!" John calls again to no avail. But then John hears sirens, sees the flashing lights and the street is suddenly blocked off by four police cruisers on one end. The woman would have to face Sherlock and John if she wanted to escape now. She freezes, as John catches up to Sherlock and seems to be weighing her options.

"Put you're hands up." A voice from one of the cars says through a megaphone. From there it's obvious that she cant escape, and so she complies. Sally runs out of the nearest cruiser. John shakes his head at Sherlock when they make eye contact.

"Thanks guys." Lestrade says clapping Sherlock on the back as he approaches.

"I think you could have caught her your self inspector." Sherlock sighs with his usual the-whole-bloody-police-force-is-entirely-incompetent attitude.

"Thanks anyways" Lestrade grunts, rolling his eyes at John. "Damn John get some rest you look positively nackerd."  
>"Yeah," John motions towards Sherlock who seems preoccupied with his phone, "He's kept me up night and day lately."<p>

"Tell him to get some rest too, see you later John."

"Bye." John says over his shoulder, then looks at Sherlock who seems to sense it, and looks around to John.

"Cab?" he asks smiling sleepily, John can tell that the adrenaline rush is wearing off quickly, and frankly, John is glad that Sherlock will finally get some rest.

"Yeah, come on." John says nudging Sherlock in the direction of the main road.

Pulling up to 221B John lifts Sherlock's sleep heavy form off his lap in order to reach his wallet in his pocket. Grumbling about being woken up Sherlock climbs out onto the sidewalk and into the house.

"Sherlock?" John calls when he reaches the top of the steps, "where did you g- oh" John scoffs with a smile. The world's only consulting detective is slumped on the sofa face down, feet dangling off the edge, still in his coat as shoes. Shaking his head John pulls off his own coat, shoes and cardigan and then does the same for Sherlock.

"John?" Sherlock whispers when the doctor tries to undo the buttons of Sherlock's coat.

"Yeah Sherlock?"

"Stay?" He commands with his eyes still closed.

John just smiles and shakes his head. "Do you know what sleeping on the sofa will do to my shoulder?"

Sherlock's eyes open slightly and settle into a glare, obviously he is dissapointed.

"fine, fine, I'll stay, but you've gotta move over _a lot._"

Sherlock actually complies and slides over into the back of the sofa. Laughing a little John pulls his socks off and grabs the blanket from his chair then sinks onto the sofa against the detective. "I cant believe I'm doing this." he sighs into Sherlock's chest as he gets settled, but almost immediately he's tired again. The last thing that John remembers before the blackness of sleep is the feeling of Sherlock's long cold fingers slipping into the hem of his trousers and resting against hist hips.

When he wakes up in the morning John is higher up on the sofa than he remembers, but is extremely comfortable. Upon opening his eyes he sees Sherlock clinging absurdly to his body like a giant koala bear. His left arm is wedged under John's back, and his right his across the doctor's chest, hands clasped in the fabric of John's shirt; and the detective's legs are doing the same. "Sherlock?" John says trying to wriggle enough to sit up. Sherlock's grip tightens and the man lifts his head off John's chest.

"Good morning." Sherlock mumbles as he pulls himself into a more dignified position one hand still resting on John's stomach, and the other propping up his head to look at John. "What time is it?"

John glances at the hall clock, "five thirty, go back to sleep." he says running his fingers through Sherlock's thick curls.

"Are you staying?"

"I was going to get up and get some cleaning done. I'm not really tired anymore."

"stay." Sherlock pleads,

"Sherlock." John says warningly.

"I bet I can make you stay," Sherlock whispers as he leans up and brushes his nose against John's. John only moans a bit, knowing that Sherlock's right, there is one sure fire way to get him to stay.

Sherlock's lips taste like he remembers, except for the wine and Chinese food, but that flavor that is so Sherlock is stronger this way, and John loves it.

"mhm John." Sherlock sighs when they part briefly, then Sherlock is atop John, and his hands are suddenly every where, and things seem to be going to fast to really process. Their mouths are together again, and everything is teeth and tongues.

John moves for Sherlock's neck, and thinks about marking him, marking his perfect white skin with love bites, instantly the idea becomes reality and Sherlock is panting and moaning as John nibbles on the skin of his perfect neck.

When John finally come back up to face Sherlock he slowly runs his tongue up Sherlock's neck, over his adam's apple and chin and proceeds to kiss him fervently.

John can feel Sherlock's morning erection pressing into his own now, and without conscious thought his hands find the hem of Sherlock's trousers; and its only seconds before both of them are wearing no pants at all.

"What do you want John?"

"You Sherlock, what else?" he moans when Sherlock pulls away and sits back on his heels looking down at John's flushed erection.

Without warning Sherlock lunges forward and his lips are around John, warm, and sticky with saliva. John cries out something but he's not sure what, and although Sherlock is a little sloppy and inexperienced his he is doing a better job than most women John's been with. He's a lot more enthusiastic as well.

John breaths out all the air in his lungs and it seems that he can't get it back as he gasps and writhes beneath Sherlock's bobbing head, "Sherlock, shit oh god Sherlock." he manages to heave.

Sherlock's hands are busy as well, one roaming the planes of John's stomach and sides, and unexpectedly, the other other has found John's testicles and is lightly rubbing them between those perfect fingers. John dares to glace down at the man currently sucking whole heartily on his cock. Sherlock is looking directly up at John his eyes wide and his mouth full, and it's those perfect, crystal blue orbs that send him over the edge. Suddenly John almost screams Sherlock's name and thrusts roughly into his mouth, coming violently and murmuring unintelligible things to his lover.

When John returns to his senses he opens his eyes and sees Sherlock with a surprised and almost frightened look on his face. _Oh shit._ John thinks.

"Shit, Sherlock I didn't mean to be that rough, shit I should have pulled out, or warned you, damn, I'm sorry." He says scrambling to sit up and wipe away the come that Sherlock had let trickle down his chin.

"Don't be sorry." Sherlock says licking his lips, then leaning in to kiss John fully on the lips, when Sherlock's tongue slides into John's mouth he sighs contentedly. "I was just surprised. I didn't know what to expect I guess." and John thinks its a first.

"I surprised the world's only consulting detective Sherlock Holmes?" John asks smiling and flipping Sherlock over onto his back.

"it seems so." Sherlock says suppressing a giggle. Sherlock's phone on the floor beside the sofa beeped once. "will you get that?"

"fine." John sighs.

New Message: 5:40 AM

Congratulations .

MH

John thinks about how fucking creepy Mycroft is for a moment, but gets distracted by the amazing man that he is currently straddling.

"Who was it?"

"No one important" John says lowering his lips onto Sherlock, the only important person in the world.

oh damn, sorry this got pretty M today. and look, a SUPER fast update. i'm on my game right now. hope you liked it, _please let me know what you thought!_


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